The Phoenix Reborn
by NuncaTeDije
Summary: Post HBP. As The Chosen One, Harry must continue to look for and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. As he goes on he is haunted by thoughts of Ginny, Snape, and the mysterious initials RAB. Underlying HarryGinny element. First fanfic, please review.
1. Number Four Privet Drive

Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were so, I do not own or have rights to any part of the Harry Potter series or related entities.

**Number Four Privet Drive**

On any other summer night the escalating silence would appear peaceful to the residents of Privet Drive, but there was something in the air that made it not quite right. Tree braches soundlessly swayed, though there was no breeze to be found, and the air tasted like cold salt water, even though it was the middle of July and Privet Drive was quite a ways off from any shore line. As days, for no know reason, rapidly became shorter, the streets began to look more forlorn. And while the crime rate had Little Whinginghad been one of the lowest in the country for over a decade, parents conjured up excuses to keep their children from playing football after five and usually added two or more deadbolts to the doors as well.

Animals seemed to be the most affected. There were several occasions where children had been bitten by their own pet snakes, and after numerous swelled arms and legs, they were all taken to their local hospitals only to discover there wasn't a single antidote able to treat their bites. Owls were perched everywhere, in trees, roofs, and even crowded telephone wires from time to time, which did make it especially difficult for the telephone company workers who were now continuously sent to fix the broken wires. Oddly, an orange tabby cat, with no known owner, had been spotted on the premise of number four Privet Drive, which of course was ridiculous since Petunia Dursley abhorred street vermin and would never tolerate one on their property, let alone give in a reason to return.

And though no one ever dared to mention it, everyone had a nagging feeling they couldn't let go of about that Potter boy. They had all hear stories and pitied the poor boy- orphaned and so misguided he needed to be sent off to a correctional school each year. Not that the disturbances where his fault of course. Just that there wasn't something quite right with the boy to begin with. No one had actually seen him since he arrived at number four Privet Drive. He mainly kept to himself. In fact, no one would have known he was back at all if Petunia had not cancelled her dinner with Mrs. Polkiss. She wasn't entertaining any visitors in her house at all right now, which, indeed, was very unlike her as now her supply of gossip had been greatly reduced.

As midnight approached, a tense stillness enveloped the neighborhood. No creatures dared to disturb the thick air. The streetlamps cast down yellow pools of light, only making the street seem more deserted. All the lights in the houses of Privet Drive had been extinguished, except for one flickering light in the second bedroom of number four Privet Drive, where Harry Potter sat waiting.


	2. The Unsigned Letter

**The Unsigned Letter**

The room sat in disarray. Though a large black trunk stood open, no obvious attempts had been made to put anything in it. A variety of school books were jumbled by the bedside, including a copy of Libatius Borage's Advanced Potion Making, lying pitifully to the side with a severely burnt and mutilated cover. A pair of dress robes made a crumpled heap at the bottom of his unmade bed. An equally wrinkled pair of scarlet and gold school robes were haphazardly draped over the top of the open trunk. A gleaming polished broom sat propped against the wall behind the door. Quills, ink, and parchment could be found scattered everywhere about the room, except perhaps at the desk. Several empty boxes of Honeydukes chocolate were piled in the trash, each with its own _Happy Birthday Harry!_ scribbled on it.

Harry Potter sat at his desk, his wand emitting a faint glow of light by which he was reading a slightly crumpled letter. He read it once again, as he had been doing at every opportunity since it's arrival the previous Monday. His eyes had become slightly glazed, and while they moved across the paper, anyone studying his expressions would have soon realized his thoughts extended beyond what was written on the scrap of paper. Despite having been folded and unfolded hundreds of times over the past few days, it had managed to remain in one piece and the ink was still clearly visible in the dim light.

_We need to talk. There are so many things left unsaid. We can talk privately after you arrive. Please don't avoid me again. _

He's face reddened every time his eyes skimmed over the few lines. Her abrupt manner stung him, but he felt it was no more than he deserved. He had achieved his goal- there was now distance between them. She neither addressed nor signed the letter. It was the way she knew he would have wanted it, in case the letter when astray. His heart skipped a beat every time he thought of what had been left unsaid. There was so many things he wanted to tell her. He wished he could say just how much he missed her, and how much he regretted what he had to do. His brow began to furrow as he remembered the last time he saw her. Though he fought to suppress the agony he felt the last time he looked into her eyes, the memory always bubbled to the surface of the mind. Her red hair was down and tangled from the wind, and her eyes were still glistening with tears, partially because of the funeral and partially because of him. He had stood there, paralyzed as he watched her, holding his truck with one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other. When she saw him she froze too, and her back stiffened as she braced herself. His heart felt as if it had been doused in ice water. After an eternity of waiting, she parted her lips as though to speak and hesitantly took a step forward, her arm stretched out.

His panic overwhelmed him. In his violent attempt to escape the horror of having to hurt her twice that day, he accidentally slammed Hedwig's cage against the compartment door, causing her to awake and flap her wings forcefully like an offended parrot. Without daring to look back, he shoved his belongings into the compartment and locked the door. He slid into a chair, shaking and exhausted, only to hear his best mate Ron bellow "HE DID WHAT TO MY SISTER!!!" before the train lurched and began to move. The remainder of the journey was spend staring out the window, refusing to move or open the compartment door, even with Hermione's coaxing.

Now, alone in his room, he shifted in his seat, and his pocket hit the chair with a startling thunk. He reached in to his pocket to touch the heavy locket he carried with him at all times, running his fingers over it's smooth cold surface. He pushed away all thoughts of Ginny. _Now is not the time for that._

Jumping up, he paced the room in an attempt to bring his thoughts to the present. There were many things he now had to do. Images flashed across his minds inner eye. _RAB… RAB…RAB…_The initials pulsed through his mind. There had been no progress on who the mysterious RAB was, and he doubted it was any Quidditch player Hermione had found. With a sickening knot in his stomach, Harry was certain Dumbledore would have recognized the initials. He shuddered in rage as he remembered Snape with his wand above Dumbledore, his face contorted. It had finally set in that Snape was indeed the Half Blood Prince. He felt nauseated each time he remembered how he, blindly, followed the instructions of a book with an unknown author. How could he not have seen that the Half Blood Prince was a dark wizard? The signs were obvious. No one would have written such destructive spells on the margins just for fun. How could he have believed it was his own father?

Scolding himself would get him nowhere. He no longer had the protection of Dumbledore, and once he took his final steeps out of number four Privet Drive, he would no longer have the protection his mother died to give him sixteen years ago. He should have spent the past few weeks planning- where he would go, and most importantly, how to find the remaining Horcruxes.

He should have been planning a way to keep himself alive.

Changes had become evident this past summer on Harry's face. His hair, more then ever, appeared limp and unkempt, and the dark bags under his eyes had become permanent. His pale skin, barely touched by sunlight over the past few weeks, gave him a sickly appearance compared to his black hair. Anxiety and fear were now apparent in his every movement, gesture, and word. His night terrors had become worse than ever, but luckily now allowed to perform magic outside school, he simply silenced his room every night and no Dursley ever heard a thing.

Harry looked at the clock ticking above the desk. Ten past eleven. He had almost an hour until when Hermione said she and Ron would arrive. The prospect of seeing his friends temporarily put his mind at ease. Despite Ron's immediate outburst at Harry, he had quickly calmed down (no doubt with the help of Hermione) with minimal damage to their friendship.

_I'll go to the Burrow and decide where to go from there._ There was no real reason for him to decide this second. The only things left to do were to sort his belongings and wait for Hermione and Ron.

However, he did not pack quite yet. Instead, he laid down on his bed watching the clock, as if daring time to go faster. As he waited, he fell into the first dreamless sleep that week, only to be awoke, at twelve on the dot, by two loud popping sounds and a shrill scream from Aunt Petunia.


	3. The Journey Begun

**The Journey Begun **

Harry's eyes shot open. He knew that sound. It was the type of scream Aunt Petunia reserved for only the most horrid of things- _magic_. He bolted out of bed and leaped down the steps two at a time to what, and any other moment, may have been a comical scene.

Aunt Petunia stood in the kitchen door, livid, throwing what looked like the Dursley's best china across the hall and into the living room. Flattened against the opposite wall was his best mate Ron looking utterly confounded. To the side lingered Hermione, frantically trying to repair the various plate and glasses at the rate which Aunt Petunia was hurling them.

"HOW DARE YOU ENTER MY RESPECTABLE HOME YOU- YOU DIRTY FITHY-"

"Harry! Make her stop already!" Ron yell, though he was mostly drowned out by Aunt Petunia's incessant ranting. He had completely forgotten all use of magic and was wildly ducking as a steak knife grazed his fire red hair. With an amused look, Harry flicked his wand at Aunt Petunia, setting her off balance as the wine glass she was about to fling disappeared into thin air. A second later, the glass reappeared in the cupboard along with the mended plates, unbent steak knives, and the gravy boat which had seconds ago traveled across the room and hit Ron square across the jaw. Aunt Petunia collapsed against the counter, her bony hands gripping the back of nearest chair. As she took long raspy breaths her eyes bored in to Harry's.

"You- you brought them here didn't you."

Harry looked at her for a minute. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes wild. It was not the first time he had not told the Dursleys that "one of his lot" would be arriving at the house. The year before he had forgotten to tell them Dumbledore would be arriving, but he handled the situation, to say the least, with more grace that Hermione and Ron did. He leaned against the door frame for a second, gazing into his aunt's irate face.

"Are Uncle Vernon and Dudley home?" As he had not left his room in days, he had no knowledge of any events in the Dursley household.  
Her scowl grew. "I asked you-"

Harry's patience was already stretched thin. Today was not the day to cross him. He had been cooped away for too long and his temper remained on the verge. "_I_ asked you if Uncle Vernon and Dudley were home."

Though he had not raised his voice, the room was filled with tense, angry vibrations. His wand was still out, pointing at her. Finally noticing it, Aunt Petunia's eyes went wide with fear as she stared at his outstretched arm. Harry could see the struggle in her face. She wasn't use to him speaking back at her, nor did she wish to tolerate it. After a moment, reason won over irrationality.

"No," she muttered through pursed lips, as though trying to bite back all the things she'd rather say.

"When will they be back?"

Her eyes flared up again and she struggled to keep control. She had no desire to be questioned by him, let alone speak to him. Her hands were clamped on the chair and her knuckles had gone white. To her, magic was a disease that she wished to have no part of. In the calmest, false polite tones she could muster, she answered his question.

"They won't be back until tomorrow. Vernon is on a business trip and Dudley is staying with the Polkisses."

_Avoiding me, most likely_. Since Harry's seventeen birthday, Dudley had used every plausible excuse, along with a few implausible ones, to distance himself from Harry as much as possible. Harry simply had assumed they were out, though he was relieved to know for certain. Anyone in the house would have heard her shouting. Satisfied with her answers, he slowly lowered his wand. She was visibly relived. She slumped in to the chair, clutching her heart. Harry stood there watching her, and he would have sworn on his Firebolt that he had seen traces of guilt and vulnerability in her sharp features and fearful eyes.

Suddenly, as is she had sensed him watching her, she got up again at began to make herself a pot of tea, as though nothing had happened, and this was indeed one more normal home on Privet Drive. He let the thought die, and turned his attention to more pressing matters.

"Stay in here for now. I don't think any other Muggles saw anything, but they may have heard you screaming. Don't open the door, answer the phone, make any calls, or even stand in front of a window too long. Understand?"

The last thing he needed to deal with was the guilt of having his only aunt, no matter how much he despised her, mauled by a dark wizard.

She made no effort to acknowledge anything he said. Instead, she remained with her back to him, filling the pot with water and acting as if he didn't even exist. However, Harry sensed a slight shudder go down her spine and Harry took that as understanding enough.

Harry walked into the living room and sat in the armchair across from Ron and Hermione. They sat silently for a moment, but for some reason, Hermione had begun to blush furiously, and Ron looked like a cat that swallowed the canary.

As he sat there watching Ron and Hermione send each other sideways glances, the same cold sinking feeling he had been having all week began to creep up into his stomach. He felt alone, paralyzed and hopeless. It must have shown through his face, as Hermione, who he didn't know had been glancing at him as well as Ron, jumped up and threw he arms around him. The cold silence that had engulfed the room broke, and they were once again three best friends.

"You're going to want to put some ice on that thing," Harry said, looking at the swollen purple bruise on Ron's chin.

"Don't be still. I could vanish it right now." Hermione already had her wand out, and was mostly likely about to perform the spell when Ron's hand shot out and gripped her wrist.

"What? You really think I'm going to let you perform some spell on me NOW? After all that! This bruise," he angrily pointed at his jaw, "could have been prevented if you had just vanished the flying gravy boat rather than repairing broken plates."

He sank back down into the couch, moody and sulking. Hermione jerked her hand away and placed it on her hip, strongly reminding Harry of Mrs. Weasley. "Well, Ronald, you are seventeen. You could have vanished it yourself you know."

He sank deeper into the couch. "Oh, Ron, stop being such a baby!"

Ron now crossed his arms. An exasperated Hermione flung herself down on the couch next to him. Harry's eyebrows raised undetectably. He was used to their fighting, but it seemed more playful than usual.

Before it could escalate into an actual disagreement, Harry cut into their conversation. "Where is we're going?"

"Straight to the Burrow. There are Aurors outside the house waiting for us to leave. We should go now," Ron said, looking up at the clock.

He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Though he was of age, he had never passed his apparation test. He would have to go to the Ministry for that, something which he had been dreading.

Before he was able to vocalize his concerns, Hermione pulled a bag of Floo powder out of her pocket and was firmly pushing Harry toward the fireplace.

"Direct line," She whispered into his ear. "The Ministry set it up. It only goes to the Burrow, and it will only work for tonight."

Harry winced at the idea of the Ministry of Magic still being in there lives, but he was to preoccupied with going to the Burrow to think upon it.

"Wait a moment- I still need to go pack." He began to turn to go up the stairs when he hear a rumbling followed by a click. He had just managed to jump out of the way when he saw his fully packed truck and Hedwig's empty cage fly into the living room and land beside the fireplace. Hermione sighed behind him.

"Really, you two, have you learned nothing? We can do _magic_." She said, sounding out the final word as if she were explaining something to a group of two year olds.

Slightly annoyed and embarrassed, Harry pretended not to have heard Hermione. He had forgotten, just as Ron, that they were now seventeen and adults and could do magic off of school grounds. He shrugged and motioned for Hermione to go first. She took a handful of the powder, and threw it into the fireplace.

"The Burrow!"

Green flames swallowed her. Next was Ron, who handed the bag to Harry before throwing in another fistful.

"The Burrow!"

His fire red hair contrasted the jewel green flames. Harry poured the remaining Floo powder into the hearth. Grabbing his trunk and Hedwig's cage, he stopped for a moment to watch the flames rise up. His heart beat madly. _This is it. This is the moment._

This step would be the final step he took out of the Dursley's home. He would never again have to spend another summer in this hell. He never again would have to see Dudley or Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia.

He was alone.

His breath caught in his throat. It felt as though his lungs would collapse. This step would be the end of his mother's protection. It was up to him to keep himself alive. He felt lightheaded. He was "the Chosen one". Lord Voldemort had chosen him. There was no escape, no way to dampen the sting of knowing he would have to destroy Voldemort- or Voldemort would destroy him.

He looked behind him, grasping for something familiar. Aunt Petunia was staring at the green flames, her nose pinched as if smelling sour milk. Neither she, nor any other Dursley would miss him. Each would erase him from their memories. He would become nothing more than a bad dream of the past. He looked into her cold unforgiving eyes, and realized, with or without any spell, this was not his home, and he had to move on. Bracing himself, he tore his eyes from hers and faced the green flames of the fire.

"THE BURROW!"

The world around him was spinning. Everything became a blur of emerald flames and soot covered bricks. He forcefully landed on his feet and tripped over his trunk, bruising his shin. Picking himself up, he felt his stomach fall though the floor as he saw a flash of long red hair dash up the stairs and heard the door slam behind her.


	4. A Grave Concern

**A Grave Concern**

_This is all your fault. You shouldn't have done it. If you truly cared about her you never would have gotten involved._ His head was spinning. Before Harry could dwell on the queasy feeling in his stomach, he felt two arms firmly clasp around him.

"Oh Harry, dearest- your looking so gaunt!"

He turned and meekly smiled at the concerned face of Mrs. Weasley. She looked thinner and paler than Harry remembered, and her fire red hair now had streaks of grey. Despite her cheery tone, her eyes were wet and bloodshot from crying. Trying to distract him, she began brushing the soot off his clothes while maintaining a comforting and motherly smile. "It's as if those muggles never feed you-"

"Or you never eat," Hermione muttered under her breath. Her brown eyes stared sharply at him as she wrinkled her brow, a mixture of pity and fear. He wanted to comfort her. He should have known Hermione would have worried about him like that. It had been clear from his letters he had barracaided himself in his room. It was true. He hadn't really been eating. He felt a surge of guilt, as if he had let Mrs. Weasley and Hermione down. He smiled meeking.

"I've been eating fine," he said, lying slightly. To make it up, he would eat more at the Burrow. It wouldn't be hard. Mrs. Weasley was a much better cook them Aunt Petunia and her wilted salads.

Mr. Weasley came into the hall. Like Mrs. Weasley, he seemed older than Harry remembered. His back was stooped and he squinted despite his glasses. "It would be best if we kept our voices down. The others are in bed, and you three ought to be too. Remus and I will be standing guard tonight."

With one determined look, that became the end of the matter. No one dared to protest the frail-looking Mr. Weasley and the determined glint in his eyes.

"Harry, you of course will be staying with Ron."

Harry gave a tired nod and gathering his things and grudgingly began to climb the stairs. By the fourth step he heard Hermione groan and instantaneously his belongings disappeared, knocking him slightly off balance, and reappeared, he assumed, in his room. Hermione pushed past him, muttering under her breath. Suddenly his heart caught in his throat. Hermione was staying with Ginny. He hurried up the next few steps, only to see the door closing behind her. He thought there would be muted murmurs behind the door, but it was silent. Was she asleep already? Was she thinking about him the way he was thinking about her?

As Harry stood there pondering, a tired and disoriented Ron ran into him from behind. Before Ron could comprehend what was happening, Harry rushed up the remaining stairs and into the bedroom they would be sharing. His trunk sat waiting at the end of the bed. He opened it. As he had expected, it had been packed perfectly, his clothes neatly stacked and possessions sorted. Ron stumbled into the room behind him, and grumbled something Harry could only guess to mean "good night" before he collapsed on the bed. Following suite, Harry quickly changed and, before his head even touched the pillow, was fast asleep.

_Harry sat crouched behind a shabby door staring into grungy living room. Everything was covered in a heavy layer of dust which was suffocating in Harry's lungs. The tattered chairs and dilapidated table and bookshelves gave no sign of being used in the recent past. Though he thought it was abandoned, something told him to stay, and so he waited patiently. After a long silent moment, the door opposite him was flung open and cold gust of air filled the room. A thin layer of frost formed on the windows and Harry saw his breath rise. A man with long greasy black hair strode into the room followed anxiously by a tall blonde boy. Harry struggled for his wand- this was the moment. He could capture Snape and avenge Dumbledore. But he was stuck. No matter how much he tried to grope for his wand, n or any nonverbal spell he used, he was not able to move. He figured he must be invisible since neither person had noticed him, though he was in plain view. He ceased to struggle for a moment, straining to hear what Snape was now telling Malfoy._

"_You expressly disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders. I had offered you my services several times, each of which you foolishly declined. I've had to stand up for you enough, making excuses to buy you time. You have brought this upon yourself-"_

"_Where is my mother? Has anything happened? Is she alright?" He was single-minded and focused, and to Harry's surprise, truly concerned with someone else's welfare more than his own._

_Snape arrogantly looked at him, peering down over his long hooked nose. "That is not my concern right now. I was placed in charge of your welfare and it is my duty to protect you."_

_Malfoy was clenching his fists, his jaw grinding and his bloodshot eyes filled with angry tears. "I don't need your protection. It was my task to do."_

"_And you did not-"_

_He stopped short, his hand up to silence Malfoy as well. He lifted his nose and sniffed for a second, as if the was a trace of something lingering in the room. He grabbed Malfoy by the arm and pulled him to the bookshelf, where a door materialized._

"_Go down there. Stay until I get you. And keep that wretched vermin from eavesdropping again."_

_He slammed the door behind Malfoy and advanced on Harry. Frantically, Harry tried to grasp his wand, but discovered he was still unable to move. Snape grabbed Harry by the throat, pushing him against the wall. His face was contorted. _

"_So, Potter, you thought you could destroy the Half-Blood Prince. You're wrong."_

_He could hardly breath as Snape's hand clamped around his neck._

"_You're weak. You know that. You can't protect anyone, not from the Dark Lord and not from me. Haven't you noticed- everyone you love dies. First you're parents, though I do take some credit for that-"_

_Harry tried to scream, to curse Snape, but no sound came._

"_And next your godfather, and though I can't take credit for that, I wasn't sad to see him go, and finally Dumbledore, which I take complete credit for."_

_Harry was thrashing, but no matter how far his arm extended, it would not connect with Snape's menacing face. During his exertion, he felt the heavy locket fall from his pants and clank onto the floor. Snape saw it and let out a crackling laugh._

"_I see you and Dumbledore found the decoy that was left for you. No wonder he was so weak at the end. And know I know where you two were and what you were after."_

_He reached into his robes and pulled out a glimmering golden necklace. In the faint light, Harry could just make out the Slytherin crest on the shimmering surface. "It's a shame that I already have it."_

_Harry regained his voice. He began to scream, cursing Snape, still kicking madly. In the background Harry hear a loud lamenting cry. He knew that sound. Snape's gripe lessened and his eyes filled with fear. The music grew louder and a bright golden light shown in through the grimy windows. Harry could feel Snape shaking._

_The dirt covered window shattered, and Fawkes flew in, his magnificent red and gold wings glowing. Snape ducked as Fawkes' beak clamped around the locket he had been holding._

_With a flash of white light, Harry was on Fawkes' back, flying high above ground. He let out a whoop of relief._

"_We got it! Fawkes, we got one of the Horcruxes!"_

_He leaned down to get it out of Fawkes' beak, but Fawkes lowered his head, keeping it out of Harry's reach. _

"_Come on, Fawkes, give it to me! We need to destroy it!"_

_But he was certain Fawkes could not hear as his voice was carried of by the wind Harry shivered. They had been flying through clouds and he was now drenched through. They came to an opening in the clouds and Harry almost had to shield his eyes. They full moon was reflecting off the stone exterior of Hogwarts, giving it and ethereal glow. He looked down and realized they were flying right above the smooth black glass of the lake._

_Fawkes plummeted, and Harry fell, though miraculously he landed on his feet unharmed. He looked up in time to see Fawkes burst into red flames, bright against the black night sky._

"_No! Fawkes! The locket! We need to destroy the locket!"_

_But it was to late. The flames had extinguished and Harry was alone except for the bright moon above. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Slowly he turned around to see Dumbledore's marble white tomb behind him. Cobwebs, dust and dirt now covered the name of the tomb. He walked over and wiped the grime off using his sleeve._

_Ginevra Molly Weasley_

_He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. He fell to his knees screaming, cursing himself for allowing everyone he loved to be killed._

Someone was shaking him awake. His scar hurt. No- his whole head hurt. He opened his eyes and discovered he had fallen of the bed and hit his head on the floor. Ron and Hermione were crouched over him, peering down.

"Harry! Are you alright?"

He reached for his glasses and looked at Hermione's concerned face.

"Yea. I'm fine. It was just a dream." He tried to make his voice sound more convinced than he actually was.

"Bloody hell! You were screaming and shouting-"

"I'm fine."

He cut Ron off before he could say any more. The sooner he forgot the dream the better. It had just been a dream. "Did I wake anyone up?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes riveted on him. "No, everyone else was already wake. You were so sound asleep we thought we'd let you sleep in."

"Thanks," he said absentmindedly. He needed to change the subject. "I'm hungry."

It wasn't a lie. He had skipped dinner the night before and he could feel his stomach gurgling.

"Well, that'll make mum happy. She's been dying to see you eat. Hasn't stopped complaining about how the muggles never fed you."

After quickly changing, Harry joined Hermione and Ron downstairs for breakfast, or in their case, lunch. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw Ginny sitting in the living room with Fleur, discussing plans for the wedding. The knot in his chest loosened. _She's safe. It was just a dream._ He breathed a sigh of relief. Harry hurried past them to the kitchen, as not to let her see him.


	5. Silver Eyes

**Silver Eyes**

Mrs. Weasley worked furiously away in the kitchen. With her wand in one hand, she supervised several knives as they happily chopped and diced a variety of vegetables and potion ingredients. In her other hand she held a large wooden spoon as she stooped over a cauldron of thick yellowed goop, stirring it once clockwise and three times counterclockwise every other minute. She had begun to sweat from the heat of the fire and her hair was falling out of it's lopsided bun.

Hermione and Ron sat at the kitchen table, so engrossed in their conversation they did not hear Harry come in. That morning's _Daily Prophet_ was messily pinned under Hermione's elbow, as if each page had been taken out closely examined, put back, and pulled out to scour over once again.

"Oh, morning Harry," Mrs. Weasley wearily said. "We've saved some breakfast for you. I'm sure you're starving by now."

Harry's stomach growled in agreement. As the knives continued merrily, Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and a clean plate, knife and fork flew from the drawer and landed neatly on the table beside Hermione and Ron, who had ceased their muttering. Without any need for a further invitation, Harry dug into the food. Mrs. Weasley came over and set a large glass of the bubbling golden slime down in front of him. Harry gulped down the piece of egg he had been eating. "What's that?"

Ron looked up from the loose thread on his shirt he had been fiddling with. "Oh, that," he said turning his nose away slightly. Harry wished he could do the same. The sickly sweet fumes where making him light headed. "It's a Calming Draught."

Hermione looked up from the page she had been re-examining. "It's a highly concentrated Calming Draught," she began in her best textbook voice. "It is highly potent and generally reserved for trauma patients-"

"So now I'm a trauma patient?" Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. He appreciated Mrs. Weasley's concern, but this was ridiculous.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, annoyed by the interruption but continued none the less. "One dose of a highly concentrated potion should leave the user anxiety free for up to one week."

Ron waited for his mother to leave before he cut in again. "She's been giving all of us that bloody potion every morning with breakfast. I don't know what good it really does us. Mum still carries that bloody clock everywhere. No matter how concentrated she makes it, it still won't be strong enough to calm anyone with You-Know-Who back and all."

Ron's voice cracked. Despite the sunlight streaming in to the kitchen, Ron was white as a sheet. _I'd have to agree that it doesn't seem to be working._

"You should take it anyway, Harry. It does seem to take the edge off a little," Hermione said in a soft voice, as if she had read his thoughts.

After a momentary internal debate, Harry decided to comply. He pinched his nose and brought the glass to his lips. It felt wet and cool, a relief from the humid summer day. The mixture was tasteless in his mouth and smooth as glass. At first it seemed it wouldn't be so bad. However, the instant he tried to swallow, he understood Ron's loathing of the potion. It stuck to his throat and became heavy, making him gag. Blocking everything else out, Harry focused on swallowing the potion, gulp by gulp.

When he had finally finished drinking the vile potion, he opened his eyes to see his two friends watching him intently. Ron jerked his head slightly. "I understand, mate. My first one was like that too. It gets easier- a little at least."

Harry did feel somewhat calmer, though it could have been the struggle to swallow had distracted him from any previous thoughts. Hermione was now back to scanning the pages of the _Daily Prophet_. "So," Harry said, trying to sound casual, "anything in particular you're looking at in there."

She glanced up at him, not convinced in the least by his flippant tone. "Yes, there is something. I think you will want to read this one for yourself."

She took out the page she had been reading and handed it to Harry.

**Mass Mayhem in Muggle London**

_The Ministry of Magic announced last night that they had apprehended the witch who had terrorized a group of Muggles in a London shopping center._

_Narcissa Malfoy, wife of known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, has been charged for using an Unforgivable Curse on a defenseless muggle, with an additional twelve counts of reckless use of magic in view of muggles. Her trial is scheduled for Monday of next week._

"_Overall it was a terrible ordeal to have to answer to," commented Rufus Scrimgeour himself. "However__, our Aurors dealt with the situation in an expedient and valiant manner. One can only imagine that her grief regarding her son lead her to do such an abominable act, though this is no __defense__ of course__, and will not be considered one by the __Wizengamot."_

_The Minister was referring to the mysterious disappearance of her son, Draco Malfoy, which occurred shortly after his return from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His disappearance is believed to have some connection to the tragic demise of Albus Dumbledore and the mysterious disappearance of former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Severus Snape, who he was last seen with. This event deeply shook what was left of the Malfoy family. If charged by the Wizengamot, Narcissa Malfoy will serve a lifetime sentence in Azkaban along with her husband, who was jailed for breaking into the Ministry last year._

Harry set the article down. His mind was whirling from shock. Ron was the first to speak. "Well, it's not that surprising is it? They are dark wizards and supporters of You-Know-Who, so using an Unforgivable Curse can't be too out of the ordinary. Besides, the Malfoys are known for their hatred of muggles."

"But still…"

Harry trailed off. There was something he couldn't put his finger on, some thought in the back of his head. Why would Narcissa Malfoy be torturing muggles in plain view? Something didn't fit about the whole situation. Was she really so deranged as not to know she would be caught? A picture was printed next to the article. Narcissa was being taken away from the scene. Her white blond hair was tangled and lank, obscuring half her face. She bared her teeth while laughing manically, her whole body shaking. Harry leaned over the picture and saw what he had been looking for- her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and wide with fear.

They were Draco's eyes, the night of the attack on Hogwarts. It was the look in his eyes when he hesitated to kill Dumbledore, but knew he had no other choice. _He tried to kill Dumbledore. _He tried to shake any mistaken feelings of pity he was having. After all, Malfoy accidentally almost killed Ron, all in an attempt to murder Dumbledore.

_Yes, but it was Snape who killed him in the end._ A surge of hatred overcame Harry. His knuckles turned red and white as he gripped the table.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Hermione's voice brought Harry out of his angry stupor. He quickly let go of the table and relaxed his shoulders, which had become tense and knotted. "Oh, yea, I'm fine. Just thinking," he said half truthfully.

"Er, so," he continued uncertainly, "was there anything earlier in the _Daily Prophet _aboutMalfoy? About his mysterious disappearance, I mean."

Hermione had just opened her mouth when he felt a soft breeze in the doorway behind him.

"'Arry! I am so glad to see you! Nobody 'ad told me zat you arrived."

Fleur floated over to him and lightly kissed him on the cheek. _At least the Calming Draught worked on someone._ Or perhaps all women were like this before their wedding.

"My seester Gabrielle will be arriving tomorrow. She will be so 'appy to 'ear zat you are already 'ere. And just een time for ze alterations!"

"The alterations?" asked Harry apprehensively. Fleur laughed, a tinkling silver bell.

"Of course, 'Arry. Ze alterations for ze dress robes. Bill and I want every zing een the wedding to match."

"Oh. Of course…" Harry nodded apathetically.

"Ah! Well, I 'ad better get back to ze planning. Zere is so much left to do. Eet ees so nice to 'ave you 'ere, 'Arry."

She leaned over to kiss Harry once again on each cheek before gliding out of the room. However, Harry's focus was on Ron, who was flipping through the remaining pages of the _Daily Prophet_, completely uninterested in Fleur's presence.

Hermione, now slightly irked at having been interrupted again, but continued on as though the conversation had never faltered.

"There was mention of it once a little while back, but it had no real information. There weren't any more details than what Rufus Scrimgeour says here."

Harry felt exasperated. He stood up and began to pace the room. Didn't any know how important this was? "If he's disappeared we need to find out where he is. If we find Malfoy we might be able to find Snape."

He spun around to face Ron and Hermione. "What does the Order know so far?"

The room became unbearably tense. Hermione turned her head away from Harry so avoid looking him in the eye. Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ back in place. Ron sat completely still, except for his mouth, which bobbed up and down, as though he was trying to say something but could not find the words. Finally, he spoke.

"Harry, we weren't sure how to tell you this, but the Order has kind of… died out."

He felt as though he had been slapped in the face. "What do you mean, died out?"

Ron's face when bright red. "Er, you see, everyone is still fighting, you know. It's just that, after Dumbledore's death, and Snape's betrayal and all, no one was really able to keep up with any meetings, and without a new leader, the Order, well, just- fell apart."

His ears were ringing. They needed the Order of the Phoenix, especially now. This was the time to stand together and fight, not to fall apart. Harry felt a rush of adrenaline. He turned to them, his jaw set. His determination flared through his eyes and his voice clear and steady. _The Order is gone._

"Well, we'll just have to fix that."


	6. The Fitting

**The Fitting**

The room fell into a deafening silence.

"Fix it?" Ron said faintly. "What do you mean fix it? You can just fix the Order of the Phoenix-"

"Why not?" Harry felt a an electric surge run through him.

Hermione, who had been determined not to meet his gaze, slowly turned her head back to face him. "Oh Harry, you know it's not that simple."

Her eyes glistened slightly and her voice was tired. She suddenly appeared much older and worn out. He considered putting his hand on her slumping shoulders, but before he could, Ron's arm had slipped around her in a comforting embrace. He too seemed older as he sat there silently comforting Hermione.

Harry gasped for the words. "But-but don't you see? We have to rebuild the Order. We're running out of time."

He felt himself drowning. "I'm running out of time."

A jolt of shock ran through him. His words frightened him. It was if he had been stripped bare and his deepest fears were being shouted to the world. Feeling vulnerable, he looked back at his two friends.

Ron's arm had gone limp and was sliding from Hermione's shoulder down her back. He was looking at Harry with a mixture of guilt and hurt. Silent tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks.

Harry took a breath and began again. "I know it will be difficult, but I have to-"

"Don't be such a bloody lonesome hero, Harry. Just because it isn't simple doesn't mean we weren't planning on helping you." Ron's eyes were filled with unsaid determination.

As if to add to Ron's point, Hermione leaped up and threw her arms around Harry and sobbed on his shoulder, and event which, mostly from Cho, he had unfortunately gotten used to.

Discussions of the Order halted as wedding plans overcame the Weasley household.

Harry awoke the next morning to find the house in total chaos. He rolled on his side, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, searching for Ron in the faint morning glow. On the bed across from him, Ron sat facing him in a failed attempt to rise, his shoulders hunched, and still gently snoring. Harry marveled at his ability to sleep through the loud clanging of footsteps up and down the stairs. However, a loud shriek caused Harry to bolt upright as Ron tumbled off of the bed. A dazed and confused Ron lay on a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, collecting himself up off the floor. "Who in their bloody right mind is screaming this early in the morning?"

He pulled himself back onto the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. Harry listened for a moment. The commotion had not died down. In fact, he could have sworn he heard the scrapping sound of a trunk being dragged up the stairs.

"Do you think we should go find out what going on?"

Before Ron could reply, there was a gentle tap on the door, barely audible over the din downstairs, and a harassed Mr. Weasley poked his head in.

"Oh what a pleasant surprise," he said straightening his glasses, which had been slightly askew. "I'm glad you both are already up. Fleur's sister Gabrielle has just arrived. There is quite a little gathering downstairs at the moment. You both had better go down too. Molly wants everyone up and feed before the fitting begins- which brings me to my point. You are both expected in the living room in a little less than half an hour. They will all have a fit if you're not down and ready in time."

Mr. Weasley gave a weak smile and timidly shut the door behind him before scurrying off down the stairs

"I had forgotten about the fitting," Ron said through a particularly loud yawn. "It's not like much can be done to fix my old dress robes anyway."

He pulled a wad of ratty material from his trunk and stared at it with a gloomy expression. "Poor Bill. Fleur will have a fit of hysteria when she see's this. Not exactly what she expected at her wedding, now is it."

Harry grabbed his dress robes as well and together they made their way down to the kitchen.

The ruckus had generally died down, though the room sounded as though it were filled with bees from the endless chattering of its occupants. In the center, seated at the table, was Fleur and her younger sister Gabrielle talking animatedly. Behind them stood Bill and Ginny, who both looked in need of a good cup of coffee.

"'Arry Potter!"

Gabrielle stared at him through her translucent blue eyes, as if in awe of his presence. "Er… it's nice to see you again, Gabrielle."

He was in no mood to be gawked at. Gabrielle's eyes remained transfixed on him. With a pang he remembered when Ginny had a crush on him, though he preferred her slight awkwardness to Gabrielle's open staring. Pulling himself out of the trance, he briefly glanced in Ginny's direction. Though seconds before she had been dead on her feet, she was talking energetically at Hermione, who appeared disgruntled at anyone speaking to her so early in the morning. Harry was just beginning to see sunlight streaming through the windows.

He noticed Gabrielle gaze kept fluttering back to him as she spoke to Fleur. Ron came over to him and handed him a glass of thick yellow goo.

"Drink up," he said with a sour expression. "Try not to let mum see you gag."

Harry lifted the glass and tried to block the unpleasant feeling of the potion sliding down his throat. At least Ron was right about one thing. The potion was easier to swallow the second time around. A little, at least.

Looking around, he observed Fleur and Gabrielle had left the room and Mrs. Weasley was now scurrying over to them looking flustered.

"You two both have your dress robes, right?"

He and Ron nodded in unison.

"Good. Then go into the living room for now. The fitting will begin in a moment."

Harry turned to Ron as Mrs. Weasley hurried off to tell everyone else. "Why does the fitting have to begin so early?"

"Well, Harry, in case you haven't noticed, the Weasley clan isn't exactly the smallest family. This was the only large block of time the seamstress could fit us into."

Harry nodded as he collected up his dress robes and headed into the living room. If he had not known where he was, he would have thought he had left the Weasley household. All around the room hung mirrors suspended in the air as if by invisible wires. Reams of material lay propped up against every possible plane of the walls, with no detectable rhyme or reason. Every possible color, shade or texture could be found somewhere in the mountainous piles filling the room. Cushioned stools of various heights were dispersed about the room, each with its own set of floating mirrors.

"Is it true that Fred and George are really paying for all this?"

Hermione had apparated behind them. "I dunno," Ron shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised though. How else could all of the arrangements already be paid for? We would have gone to Diagon Ally for all this, but it was deemed to dangerous. So instead it was brought here."

It made sense to Harry. "How is their joke shop going?"

"Fabulously. They've expanded since we were last there."

Harry turned his attention back to the fitting. A plump frazzled witch draped in tape measures stood in the center. Fleur stood beside her issuing instructions.

"We will start with ze men. I want all of Bill's family een red. No! Not zat red. Crimson. Yes, zat one ees prefect. Crimson and gold- all of zem."

"Gryffindor colors. At least she has some good sense." Ron said, yawning partially from it being morning and partially from boredom. Harry starred at him in utter shock, his jaw hanging open. Ron started back at him apprehensively.

"Er- Harry are you feeling alright?"

Harry quickly shut his mouth. "Yea, I'm just fine. Did you just say Fleur has 'at least some good sense'"?

A smile crept onto Ron's lips. "Yea, I guess I did, didn't I?"

The fitting went smoothly. Harry was fascinated by how the alterations worked. With a tap of her wand, the plump witch had brought their dress robes to life. Harry and Ron were first. He sensed Ron turn a delicate shade of pink as she wrinkled her nose at his frayed second hand robes.

"No brother of ours will be wearing that to a wedding."

Fred and George materialized behind them, grinning as usual.

"What do you say, Fred? Dragon skin would go nicely, don't you think?"

"Why, George, those were my thoughts exactly."

With a flick of their wands, a skein of dragon skin appeared in front of them.

"We took the liberty of purchasing some on our way here."

"Only the finest-"

"For our dearest brother's wedding."

"My thought exactly, Fred. And an new set of dragon skin robes for Charlie as well. The groomsmen should match."

"What a splendid idea."

Beaming, they winked at Harry, a silent thank you for his initial investment.

"Fred! George! You can't possibly-"

"Mother dearest!" Fred said in his all too common pretend sweet voice.

"We've missed you so dearly," George chimed in using a matching tone. "In fact, I think it would be best if we did some catching up over a nice cup of tea."  
As if to settle the matter, the each took her by the arm and escorted her back into the kitchen, leaving Harry silently chuckling behind them.

The rest of his fitting passed quickly. The materials had magically been swapped so his colors matched the rest of the Weasley family. Ron had been in a daze for most of the process, occasionally exiting his trance to stroke the dragon skin of his new, and highly fashionable, dress robes.

The fitting had ended and Harry sat in the kitchen playing chess, or losing really, against Ron. He stared longingly out of the window and the clear day. Perfect for Quidditch. But Ron was way ahead of him.

"Hey Harry," he said hopefully, "Why don't we go get our brooms?"

Grinning, he flicked his wand, sending both their brooms soaring down the stairs. He grabbed his and began to walk to the door, but stopped in his tracks. Hermione and Ginny were being fitted for the wedding. He'd have to talk to her soon. Pretending to tie his trainer, he watched her for another moment. _She looks beautiful._

She was laughing at something Hermione had said and her bright brown eyes were glowing. Her hair was down and the crimson of her dress robes set of the fire in her hair. He stayed there, watching her for a moment, until her she looked up into the mirror. Though her reflection, their eyes caught. It was like the incident at the train all over again. He felt frozen- heavy as lead. Breathlessly, he grabbed his Firebolt and dashed out to join Ron, who was already soaring above the ground.


	7. Confessions

**Confessions**

After the fitting, preparations for the wedding became increasingly intense. The next morning Harry woke up late only to find Ron in the kitchen looking utterly confused. He was sitting on a stool by a counter in a frilly pink apron, which Harry could only assume was not his choice of attire, struggling with a pile of vegetables laying in front of him.

"I told mum I'm no good at cooking spells," he said out of the corner of his mouth, hopelessly jabbing his wand at a potato. However, his feeble attempts didn't produce the peeling effect he desired, but rather that the skins turned a moldy shade of green and shriveled slightly.

"Oh, Ron, you're going about it all wrong."

Hermione, who was also aiding Mrs. Weasley in preparing the food for the wedding, had already, neatly, finished peeling all of the carrots came over to assist Ron in recovering what was left of the potatoes.

"It's more of a swish really."

Taking on of the more greened and wrinkled ones, she tapped it firmly. The moldy skin quickly returned to a more natural shade and removed itself, leaving a perfectly peeled potato.

"Now you try," she said eagerly, handing him another one of his misshaped mistakes.

Ron's ears went pink. "Do you always have to be such a show off? I was doing perfectly alright before you came over here," he said lying through his teeth.

Hermione gave them both a swift glare before walking off to help Mrs. Weasley with the pies. Ron began to sulk. "Does she always have to be such a know-it-all? I though at some point she would give me- us, I mean, a break."

Yet Harry could have sworn the weak flick in Ron's wrist was his imitation of Hermione's swish.

"Harry, dear, I'm so glad you're here," Mrs. Weasley swooped down behind him and Ron. "Do you think you could help Hermione with the meat? Thank you, my dear. We'll need to leave some pieces very rare for Bill and Remus. It'll be the day before a full moon and you can figure how they'll get. At least this is the only symptom Bill is showing. Oh Ron, that's a very nicely peeled potato, but do you think you could go any faster. I'm hoping to have this done by the end of today."

Ron's ears became even redder at his mother's comment.

"Er, yea, I'll work on that," he said, once again jabbing the potato.

"It really is more of a swish, dear," she said, turning on heel.

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Harry awoke to find Ron already up. He sat at the foot of his bed stroking the dragon skin of his recently purchased dress robes.

They both quickly dressed and went down for a quick breakfast and to help with setting up the garden.

Harry spent most of the morning trying to avoid Ginny. A wedding was not the place he wanted to have to confront her. Instead, he put his energy into magically unfolding the assortment of chairs set aside by Mr. Weasley.

The Weasley family had spent a good deal of the previous week degnoming the garden, leaving a variety of pits and potholes spread among the perimeter of the garden. In several of them were gleaming crimson and gold tulips in full bloom, most likely placed by Fred and George. At first they appeared to be ordinary garden flowers, but if anyone were to pass by one, it would shout short phrases such as "Way to go Bill!" or "Flowers compliments of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes!". By the end of the first hour, most rows of chairs had to be moved toward the center to prevent another chorus of shouting tulips, leaving a crooked and winding center aisle. Ron had become so fed up he tried to uproot one, which quickly bit him back.

"How was I to know it would do that?" he whined, rubbing the swollen bite mark on his hand.

"Better luck next time, mate," Fred chuckled.

"Don't forget who you're dealing with either," George said smiling.

After a short, but loud, admonishment from Mrs. Weasley, the twins agreed to remove the enchanted flowers, leaving empty, but preferable, potholes which, though unsightly, did not shout at or bite guests.

At the far end of the garden stood a small white dais, large enough for five or so to comfortably stand on. The polish of the wood gleamed in the morning sunlight. Behind it stood an equally white trellis, which overnight, red roses had magically adhered themselves too. The entire area was bewitched to be warm and sunny, despite any clouds above.

By ten, guest had begun to arrive. Harry recognized most everyone there. First to come were Hagrid and Madam. Maxime, followed shortly after by, to Harry's great surprise, Percy Weasley.

Nudging Ron, he motioned over to Percy. "What's he doing here?"

Ron made a slight snorting sound. "Oh, him. Yea, well, Bill thought it would be best if the whole Weasley family was invited, including that git. He's probably only here because the ministry sent him."

"Does he still think I'm a nutter?"

Ron gave a sour grin. "With his brilliant powers of deduction, most likely."

Harry was glad to know he was considered family enough to sit in the second row, but was quickly disappointed to discover he was to have to sit by none other than the aforementioned git, Percy Weasley.

As he searched for someone to change the seating chart, he heard a voice behind him.

"We need to talk."

Harry froze in his tracks and turned. Before him stood Ginny, her hands on her hips, looking at him with pure determination. Her red hair was down and swayed slightly in the morning breeze. His voice caught in his throat and he nodded his head, dreading the inevitable that was to come.

"Follow me," she said.

Silently, he followed her to the edge of the field where the old broom closet stood. She began to speak, but was cut off by a loud moaning coming from the broom closet. For a moment, Harry though there was a bogart in the closet. However, Ginny rolled her eyes and threw open the door.

Out tumbled Ron and Hermione, still glued at the lips. Hermione's already frizzy hair was in total disarray and a purple bite mark was clearly visible on Ron's neck.

"Er, Harry," Hermione said, shaking slightly. "We were just- I mean, it's just that, Ron and I, well, er-"

"Oh for goodness sake, Hermione, everyone knows you and Ron have been together all summer," Ginny said tartly, glaring at the couple.

Harry chuckled silently, surprised he hadn't put the pieces together in his mind. _That explains Ron's detachment from Fleur._

"Oh, well, we're going to see if anyone needs help setting up," Ron said, bolting off without a second glance, his ears a violent shade of red. Hermione quickly followed, though Harry could have sworn she first gave him a look of sympathy.

Alone, Harry looked at Ginny. He could see a mixture of anger, hurt and curiosity in her eyes as she looked back at him.

_All the things left unsaid._

_Was she waiting for him to explain? What could he possibly say?_

She was opening her mouth to speak. All the emotions that we bottled up in him rose to the surface. He had to say something. He had wanted to say he missed her. He had wanted to say he wished they could still be together. He had wanted to say he would die if anything happened to her. Instead, he blurted out the words he had dreaded even thinking.

"I love you."

The words spilled out of his mouth.

There was a stunned silence. His breath quickened. He thought of all his nightmares and all of his fears. He thought of what happened to everyone he loved. He was torn between regretting opening his mouth, and being relieved at finally saying it.

With silent compassion and understanding, she put her arms around him in a comforting embrace.

"I love you too, Harry."

He had known. He had known they were in love even though he had been unable to admit it, even to himself. He stood there shaking slightly. Together, they sank to the ground and sat side by side behind the broom shed away from the gathering wedding guests. As the moments passed, he cried on her shoulder, dreading what was to come.


End file.
